


Ready, Aim, Shoot

by whatevershakesyourboat



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Drabble, Gen, Getting real tired of your shit Jim, mormor, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatevershakesyourboat/pseuds/whatevershakesyourboat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian did not sign up for this. He really, really didn't.  And no, no matter what Jim says, shooting a camera is nothing like shooting a gun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready, Aim, Shoot

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really entertained by the idea that Sebastian Moran also acted as publicist/cameraman in Moriarty's "Richard Brook" scheme. Thus, this little drabble was born. Enjoy!

“This was never in the job description,” Seb grumbles to himself as he prepares the set. Assembling a camera stand, however, is surprisingly similar to assembling his rifle. Each part clicks into place under his careful guidance. It’s comforting, a little.

Jim—no, Richard today—Richard fiddles with the collar of his shirt, a bundle of nervous energy. He watches Seb with just the right amount of admiration as he paces their makeshift set, fiddling with props and glancing shyly in Seb’s direction.

The camera still feels bulky in his hands, and he’s not certain he’ll ever be comfortable with the way he has to contort his fingers to reach the trigger.

Hmm. Trigger.

“You’re still _shooting_ people,” Jim had answered his complaints, quirking his head to the side in that ‘aren't I so clever’ way, “Stop whining.”

So Sebastian had. Obediently, he had learned how to handle the pieces of camera equipment so smoothly it seemed as though he’d done it for years. Now, flipping lenses and positioning the flash is second nature. He’s always been a fast learner.

Now, it’s Richard looking at him with big, dewy eyes and he almost can’t resist shuddering because the transformation is so thorough. It’s unsettling.

“What do you want to shoot first, Sebby?”

—-

Seb doesn't laugh as they rifle through the photos later. He doesn't even crack a smile. Jim’s taking this whole process much too seriously, and Sebastian doesn't need to hear about how good Jim is at hiding bodies tonight. So he slips into his new persona, still itchy and ill-fitting, and discusses the pictures like a professional.

But, oh, does he want to laugh.

Jim in a lavender v-neck, looking up at the camera as he crouches on a staircase; Jim wearing a pair of truly atrocious glasses, a blissfully innocent to the world look on his face; hell, even one with a fucking puppy, his face aglow with childish wonder.

Goddammit, he looks exactly like a thespian wannabe submitting his first set of headshots.

Really though, the things he’s saying now are things he never even considered never having to say.

“What if we crop it off center? Looks interesting,” he demonstrates with a few clicks and looks to see Jim nodding pensively.

“Get rid of that one,” he commands, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“Makes you look like a children’s show host,” Seb mumbles, hovering over the delete option. He’s not sorry to see it go; the pictures with the puppy creep him out. “A storyteller, or something.”

“Wait!” Jim cries sharply, just as Sebastian’s about to remove the offending set from existence. “The Storyteller,” he tests how it sounds, a dark delight in his voice. “I’m the Storyteller.”

He makes it sound like something from a nightmare.

“Boss?”

Jim swivels the chair around so they are facing each other, except he’s no longer Jim and Sebastian is looking at Richard.

“I’m the Storyteller!”

It sounds sweet and honest and inviting, and Sebastian shudders.


End file.
